Routine
by mysticxf
Summary: About to head off for an adventure with the Doctor? Gotta take care of the day-to-day stuff first.


Pushing through the door, Clara was greeted by a set of screams that, for the moment, she ignored. Her top coat was soaked through with rain, groceries were carefully balanced on each hip, and the mail was clenched between her teeth. The wandering thought that she would accept an extra set of hands grown straight out of her sides fluttered away as one bag slipped and the keys in her hand fell to the ground the second she stepped inside.

"Angie! _Artie_!" She shouted, sending the mail falling about with a grunt of frustration as she stood in the entrance of the house, glaring up the stairs, waiting for one of the two children to come down. "Could use a hand!"

"HE'S INSUFFERABLE!" Came the reply as Angie swung around the corner at the mid-point of the staircase and bounded down to stand on the third step, "He's broken my lamp."

"Haven't broken it at all!" Artie leaned over the stairs to shout before disappearing.

"Claims he was trying to run some experiment, but he's just broken it. I hate having a brother." She stomped her foot for emphasis, before repeating, "I hate it!"

And the girl went into the kitchen, leaving her standing there, still wet, still holding the groceries, and still surrounded by the post. Clara stepped forward, kicking the door shut with her right foot and she went into the kitchen, telling the girl frankly, "You'd think differently if he suddenly weren't here."

"No, I wouldn't," Angie spat as Clara set down the groceries, pulled her coat off to drape over the back of a chair, and began sorting the items from the two bags into cabinets and the fridge, eyeing the girl who was grumbling to herself. "My stuff wouldn't be broken."

"Stuff breaks," Clara pointed out with a cucumber, "Brothers don't come along all the time."

"You're lucky you don't have a brother," Angie told her.

"Wish I had," she lamented, "Would have been teased less in school if I'd had a brother to stand up for me." The boy bounded into the kitchen and did a quick round of the bags before trying to slip past, "Nope," Clara told him, hand coming up to press into his chest.

"What?" He questioned innocently.

She held out a hand, "You haven't even had dinner yet."

He dropped the packet of cookies into her palm with a frown, "And I didn't break the lamp. She's too dense to realize I was fixing it."

"Fixing it because you broke it!" Angie screamed. "I'm calling dad. That's it! You're not to go into my room."

"Artie, what did you do to the lamp?" Clara asked quickly, "And no lies. Don't forget, I know when you're lying."

The boy sighed, "I noticed the lamp wasn't working, thought I'd take it apart and fix it," he turned to Angie, "Which I have."

"And how did you notice the lamp wasn't working?" Clara prompted. He dropped his head. "You were in the room when you weren't supposed to be," Clara surmised.

Angie gave a triumphant laugh, "I'm telling dad."

"You're going to your room and finishing up your homework," Clara told her, watching her face sour before she stomped away, "And you," she tapped Artie's chin with the cookies, "You know it upsets her when you're in her room."

"Didn't use to be that way," Artie told her silently, "Everything's different since mum…" he trailed and then turned away, and she listened to the slow steps that moved up the stairs.

Clara fell into a chair and dropped the cookies onto the counter, smiling as she heard the Tardis materializing out front, but her lips turned quickly as she lifted herself up and finished putting the groceries away. She moved to the front door and picked up the mail and the keys and set them on a small table there before opening the door to the man who had a gleeful expression and a raised fist, and she pointed, "You, inside, couch, sit."

He clamped his mouth shut and his shoulders slumped as he rolled his eyes and started for the living room and Clara gave him a sympathetic smile as she watched him go, turning her attention to the stairs. She bounded up and entered Artie's room and snatched him up by the elbow, watching the surprise that overtook his features as she pulled him across the hall and deposited him next to Angie on her bed.

"It's Wednesday," she told them both. "Wednesday is my day. _My day_," she repeated. "The Doctor is downstairs and, technically speaking, I don't have to do anything, but seeing as I can't exactly leave thinking you might toss him out a window while I'm gone, I'm just gonna have to do something…" she trailed, one hand at her waist, the other tapping at her chin.

"Can we come with you?" Artie questioned brightly as Angie rolled her eyes.

"No," Clara told him bluntly. "Last thing I need is another cyber-debacle."

"Still have nightmares," Angie muttered.

Clara bent slightly, "Let's try some honesty – we're all pretty rubbish at it, might as well give it a go."

Artie nodded; Angie crossed her arms.

"Sometimes I'd really rather not be here," Clara told them, watching them both glance up at her with a twinge of hurt and surprise. "Because sometimes you both get on my nerves and after I've had a particularly rough day and I come home to find that someone's gotten my laptop infected with a worm from playing his video games," she looks to Artie, "And someone else has put a hole in one of my favorite sweaters that she thinks I don't know she borrows," she looks to Angie, "I'd quite like it if neither of you were here, or, more accurately, if I were somewhere else entirely."

Both children stare at her as she straightens.

"But then I realize that's ridiculous."

Angie blurted, "Yeah, 'cause you think you're our mum now and mums don't think that way."

Clara nodded with a huff of a laugh, "Oh, mums think that all the time, but that's not why it's ridiculous. Not specifically."

"Why is it ridiculous then?" Artie questioned quietly.

"Because you know what I wished for sixteen years?" She waited before telling them, "I wanted brothers and sisters and the fortunate, or unfortunate, side effect of nanny-ing you two for so many years is I finally got them and as annoyed as I am with you sometimes, I would never trade either of you for anything."

Angie tilted her head, "You're trying to tell me to not be so angry with Artie over the lamp and coming into my room, aren't you."

Artie sighed and shifted to look at her to admit, "I came into your room cause you fell asleep doing homework and were having a nightmare about the Cybermen and I wanted to check on you. _That's all_! I know your _rules_ about _your room_."

The girl looked sheepish before shoving him, "Fine, you get a pass, but if I catch you…"

He raised his hands and pushed off the bed, "I know, _I know_, I'm dead."

Clara watched Artie move quickly passed her towards his room and she eyed Angie, who's avoided her stare, until the girl finally asked "So you think of us as your little brother and sister?"

"I keep telling you I don't wanna be your mum," she assured her, pressing a palm to each of her shoulders, "And if you want to borrow something, just ask."

"You'll say no," Angie told her knowingly.

Clara shook her head, "Not… every time." Then she backed up a step and nodded back to Artie before telling Angie, "Hold down the fort, I'll be back in a time jump."

Angie laughed as she nodded, "So, the Doctor like your big brother 'cause we thought maybe…"

Holding up a finger, Clara refused to hear, only telling her, "He's the Doctor."

And as she left, she heard them both chuckling in a sing-song voice from either room, "_Clara's boyfriend_."

She laughed to herself as she made her way back into the living room to stand before the Doctor, watching him as he fiddled with his hands between his knees. "Oy, chin boy," she exclaimed, "Let's go."

He shifted back and smiled up at her, "I don't get a lecture?"

"Nope," she offered, moving to the front door to pick up another jacket and her keys before holding a hand out and waiting as he stood next to her, looking grumpy. Clara stared at the blue box just outside until she felt the package of cookies slap against her palm and he moved past her. She sighed, all part of the routine.

End


End file.
